


Caring for Delicates (One Load at a Time)

by starrynoctsky (lightinthehall)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Creampie, Laundry room sex, M/M, Noctis in panties, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Sharing Clothes, sex on a washing machine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29650824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightinthehall/pseuds/starrynoctsky
Summary: Noctis laughs as Ignis lifts him by the waist, spinning him around before perching him atop the washer.“Ah!”Those dark eyelashes flutter as his laughing mouth forms a shudderingoh. Only a scrap of fabric separates him from the low rumbling of the machine, and his knees fall wide, leaving him completely open for Ignis’ viewing pleasure.(written for round 10 of the ignoct spice-a-thon: lace, creampie)
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 11
Kudos: 74
Collections: The Ignoct Spice-a-thon





	Caring for Delicates (One Load at a Time)

The laundry room is quiet.

Ignis is relieved to find it empty but considering the late hour he isn’t surprised. The parking lot is practically empty, save for the Regalia. It’s just another run-down motel on a long road, another step closer to Altissia and the ominous trials awaiting them there.

The room contains one washer and one dryer, along with a dusty floor length mirror against the wall. There’s likely not a thing in this room that’s younger than he is.

He sets his bag down and sends a quick message from his phone. Within moments he receives a winking face in response. Ignis smiles.

The minutes tick by, and Ignis, never good at staying idle, decides to take advantage of the unoccupied machines. There’s hardly a shirt in his bag that he hasn’t sweat through in the Lestallum heat or pants that haven’t been splattered by some monster’s blood and guts. A drawback of wielding daggers is the necessity for close combat.

One by one, his garments go into the washer, save for his striped shirt, which is oddly missing. Ignis’ brow furrows, trying to remember when he’d last worn it. But it’s no matter, he’ll just have to double check the room before they leave.

Ignis has measured out the cheap powdered detergent when there’s a knock on the wall behind him.

“Noctis,” Ignis says, heart leaping. Even with his back to the doorway, he knows its Noct, he’d heard the familiar footfalls approach, sensed that starlight-edged presence nearby. The prince’s aura has been a comfort since childhood: warm, protective, and distinctly _Noctis_. The gathering of the royal arms has only amplified it.

“You’re late.”

“Had to wait for them to fall asleep,” Noctis says, his voice low, mixed with a mischief that make Ignis’ heart race. “Need a hand with that?”

Cheeky prince. The machine rumbles to life with a twist of a dial and water pours noisily into the basin. Ignis finally turns around and the words, _‘come here’_ turn to ash on his tongue.

Noctis is leaning against the doorframe, a familiar striped shirt fluttering around his bare thighs.

“That’s –”

“- yours? Yeah. Found it lying around.”

The stolen shirt drapes over Noctis’ shoulders loosely, the lapels gaping in a wide vee to expose the entire tempting length of his throat and drawing Ignis’ eyes down, down, down past his collarbone. Noctis’ modesty is only saved by the fist gripping the shirt together.

The thought of someone seeing the last royal of Lucis wandering through the motel halls like – like _this –_ causes his blood to heat.

“ _Noct_ ,” Ignis chokes out, scandalized and helplessly aroused, grabbing Noctis by the elbow and pulling him into the room. Noctis falls into his arms with little resistance. Ignis holds him close, quickly peering up and down the hallway, and sighing in relief when he finds it still deserted. “Anyone could have seen you."

“Relax,” Noctis says. “No one saw. Gladio and Prompto are snoring like undead behemoths. And besides, this place is practically deserted.”

Ignis wants to argue, but how can he when Noctis looks up at him with those bright, ocean-blue eyes, and that lithe body wrapped up in _Ignis’_ clothes? None of his training had taught him how to resist this man.

Knowing he’s won, Noctis winds his arms around Ignis’ waist, tucking his face into the nook of Ignis’ shoulder.

The restlessness that had burrowed into his skin instantly settles, and the dread accumulating in his heart drains away. Ignis buries his nose into the soft strands of black hair and he can finally breathe.

“Missed this. Missed you,” Noct murmurs.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Ignis asks as if he hasn’t keenly felt the distance between them. There’s hardly time or privacy to spare on the road like this.

“Too long.”

“Even so, you shouldn’t risk indecent public exposure to accost me in the laundry room.”

It isn’t much of a reprimand when he drops a kiss onto Noctis’ lips, feeling the pleased smirk against his lips.

“Wanted to see the look on your face.”

“The sight of your lovely legs would give anyone a heart attack Noct. Though it was a nice surprise.”

“Oh,” Noctis laughs softly. “That’s not the surprise.”

The prince sways closer, pressing their lips together in a teasing breath of a kiss as he guides Ignis’ hand beneath the hem of the stolen shirt. Instead of the defined edge of briefs he’d been expecting, Ignis’ fingers glide over the unmistakeable strip of lace covering Noct’s hip.

Ignis freezes, eyes wide and heat flooding his cheeks. Noctis hums, a smug grin curving his lips as he guides Ignis’ touch in small circles across the fabric. Every brush of his fingertips over the delicate threads sends lightning up Ignis’ arm, the thin layer teasing the warmth of smooth skin underneath.

_How? When?_ He wants to ask. Then he remembers how quiet Noctis had gotten as they’d left Lestallum, how he’d suddenly asked Ignis to meet him in the laundry room tonight.

“You’ve been planning this.”

Noctis tilts his head. “Wanna see them?”

Ignis groans, dignity abandoning him. “I think I may die if I don’t.”

In the space of two heartbeats, hardly enough time for Ignis to brace himself, Noctis takes a step back, relaxes his grip, and the shirt falls open.

Ignis’ breath catches. They’re black, so fitting for Noctis, the perfect contrast to his pale skin. The thin midnight lace stretched across his hips.

Ignis aches with the need to see and touch, the distance between them is unsatisfactory.

Noctis laughs as Ignis lifts him by the waist, spinning him around before perching him atop the washer.

“ _Ah!_ ” Those dark eyelashes flutter as his laughing mouth forms a shuddering _oh_. Only a scrap of fabric separates him from the low rumbling of the machine, and his knees fall wide, leaving him completely open for Ignis’ viewing pleasure.

A makeshift throne for his prince, his king, his love. And bless the Six, he is a _vision_.

No other sight could compel Ignis to his knees faster, no other force could inspire such fervent worship.

Sinking to the tiled floor, Ignis hooks those bare thighs over his shoulders, holding his legs spread as he leans in to delicately nose at the warmed lace that covers the growing swell of Noctis’ half-hard dick. Noctis sucks in a breath, fingers weaving through Ignis’ hair. The prince’s entire body jerks when Ignis drags the flat of his tongue over his cock, tracing the rough patterns of lace with slow licks.

“Fuck, Ignis, fuck.” Noctis squirms, his hips fighting to push forward within Ignis’ grasp. Ignis holds him still, knowing it will fuel his desperation further. It’s difficult to tell the minute trembling of Noctis’ limbs from the vibrations of the washer. A quick glance upward reveals that Noctis is watching him, eyes dark with frustration and arousal. Ignis continues to lap at him, mouthing around the head where it peeks past the lace, gathering the taste of him at the tip. Noctis groans, low and needy, hips driving up, his hands tightening in his hair, _pulling_ and sending shivers down Ignis’ spine.

“Noct,” Ignis says, and he hasn’t even swallowed Noctis down like he desperately wants to, but his voice is wrecked all the same. “Do you have…?”

There’s a flash of blue light and a familiar bottle appears in Noctis’ hand.

Ignis accepts it, pressing worshipful kisses upon Noctis’ inner thigh in thanks. He delivers more of his gratitude slowly, teasing taut balls with his mouth, breath hot enough to fog the lens of his glasses. Noct’s leg kicks out, tensing over his shoulder. Unconcerned, he follows the trail of the panties once again, soaking the lace confining Noctis’ hard dick.

“Is this what you wanted from this little rendezvous? To be on display for me? So lovely, so perfect.”

“Ngh, I wanted – want _you_.”

This isn’t the first time that Noctis has said this out loud, but it’s a confession that knocks Ignis’ heart into pieces every time. He was never supposed to have this, never supposed to hear his forbidden desires reflected in Noctis’ begging voice.

He rises to his feet, allowing Noctis’ legs to slip off his shoulders. Noct wraps his legs around Ignis’ waist instead, drawing them flush together as he drags Ignis in for a frantic kiss.

Arms wind around his neck as their kiss deepens, lips, tongues, meeting and tangling together. There’s nothing stopping Noctis from rolling his hips now, grinding on the growing bulge of Ignis’ pants. It’s heavenly, and they smother each other’s moans with more kisses as they rut together.

In their frenzy, the oversized shirt has slipped from Noctis’ shoulders to pool around his wrists and his hips. With every heavy breath, Noct’s bare chest is begging for Ignis’ mouth. He acquiesces, capturing a hardening nipple with his teeth, then soothing the sensitive nub with his tongue. He hungrily lavishes attention on each side, until Noctis is crying out.

Hands press against his shoulder and Ignis is forced to relent his assault.

“You’re overdressed,” Noctis says, tugging at his clothes. It’s a whine and a command all at once.

Ignis rids himself of his shirt, tossing it in the direction of his duffle. Eager hands map his chest, grabbing at his pecs before trailing down caressing the pink lines of new scars left behind from difficult hunts and late elixirs. He distracts Noctis with a sweet kiss, hoping to assuage the lingering guilt behind those touches. There’s so much left unspoken between them. Vows of protection and loyalty rest upon his tongue, but he suspects Noctis wouldn’t like to hear them, not right now.

At least he can demonstrate with his touch, with his body.

“Did you want me here?”

Ignis’ fingers find Noct’s entrance, adding pressure through the thin strip of lace that covers it. Noctis’ thighs tense and tighten around his torso as he circles his finger, dragging the rough fabric around his sensitive rim. Then, he pushes in, just slightly, just to hear Noctis sob, and just to feel that heated entrance give way to the blunt shape of his finger through the lace.

“Yes, yes, do it – come on.”

He pours lube onto his fingers and slips his hand between Noctis’ legs. He pulls the panties aside, and Noctis sobs again, this time in relief as one finger finally sinks into him.

Noctis clings to him again, desperately trying to find friction with his hips, trying to trap Ignis’ hand between his thighs. Ignis opens him up on his long fingers, drinking in the sighs and gasps that fill the room.

“ _Gods_ , your hands are so. They’re so good.” Then, “Need more.”

Ignis suppresses a smile. Impatient as ever.

“Turn around for me,” he murmurs, pulling out. The sudden loss leaves Noctis frowning, darkened eyes staring up at him in silent accusation, demanding to be filled up once more.

“Soon, love.” Ignis presses a kiss to his brow, pitching his voice low. “I need you” – Noctis shudders – “to turn around for me.” That seems to clear the haze. Noctis slips down, planting his feet apart and bending himself over the rumbling machine, bracing his upper body with his elbows.

“Like this?” he asks, looking over his shoulder. The cursed tease even tilts his hips up, presenting his round bottom and the dark lace that decorates the curve of those cheeks.

“So shameless.” He can’t hide the spike of arousal in his voice, and Noctis wiggles his hips temptingly in response. Ignis unties his sleep pants, pushing them down until they’re down to his knees. He strokes himself, hard and aching, with a patient hand, taking in the sight in front of him.

In the luxury of their Insomnian apartment, he would have tumbled Noctis into a soft bed, and made a mess of him in freshly laundered sheets. They would have taken their time. Here, in this unmapped town, there’s the peeling wallpaper, the yellowed glow of an incandescent bulb, while they steal privacy in the late hours of a dusty laundry room.

There isn’t even a door to stop any passersby from seeing the way Ignis pull aside the strip of lace panties, from hearing the way Noctis moans as Ignis splits him open on his cock _._

The outside world is the furthest thing from his mind. No one else exists. When Ignis finally bottoms out in tight heat, the only word he can think of is _home_.

“Noctis. Noct…” Ignis’ words dissolve into whispered nonsense, feverish, a string of love sounds for their ears only.

Ignis draws out slowly, then pushes back in, content to watch as Noctis whimpers, and shivers, and struggles to comprehend the width of him all over again. His prince enjoys the stretch, the feeling of Ignis filling him completely.

For Ignis, he finds joy in the intimate heat, knowing that it’s _Noctis_ accepting him, taking everything Ignis can give.

“Faster,” Noctis says, rolling his hips back.

“As you wish.”

Every thrust of Ignis’ hips drives Noctis forward. Nothing compares to this, knowing they’re connected. With every mile they drive, Ignis feels like these chances to be together are slipping away. Like they’re running out of time. The thought makes him despair, makes him desperate to bury himself deep, until they can’t be separated.

He covers Noctis’ hands with his own, feeling the vibrations from the machine travelling through their intertwined fingers.

Ignis’ eyes watch the washer’s dial as it winds down. He shoves forward, blanketing Noctis’ body with his own, pressing him firmly into the rumbling machine.

“ _Oh Gods, wh –_ ” Noctis yells out, breaking off into choked sobs, and clenching hard around Ignis’ cock. He’s trapped there, his feet forced onto the tips of their toes, his hips pinned to the machine by Ignis’ thrusts. The vibrations of the washer wrack through his body, and even Ignis can feel the shocks from every point of connection.

This time, Ignis doesn’t slow his pace, fucking into Noctis as he’s reduced to desperate moans from the relentless stimulation. The washer enters its final cycle, shaking violently, so hard that the ground shakes, and Ignis grinds in deep.

Noctis _wails_ when he comes, entire body tensing, and Ignis lasts long enough for one final thrust, brightness overtaking his vision as the machine shudders to a halt beneath their bodies.

“Are you alright?” Ignis asks, chest heaving for breath in the aftermath.

“Gh…” Noctis replies, still clinging to the surface. He stays slumped against the washer when Ignis finally pulls out.

The sight of him has Ignis sinking to his knees once more, grasping Noctis’ hips just to see the way his spend leaks out of Noct’s ruined hole, warm white catching on the dark lace that slipped between his cheeks.

For once, Ignis doesn’t pause to think.

Noctis’ breath hitches, hips twitching helplessly when Ignis licks over that dirtied strip.

He whines and shakes as Ignis licks and licks, tongue delving beneath the lace to reach the heated core of him. Ignis chuckles when Noctis swats weakly at him, his rim no doubt oversensitive from their first – ah, load.

“You’d make a divine meal. I wish we had the time, love.”

Noctis makes a valiant effort to stand on his trembling knees. His face is damp with tears, lips bitten red, the remains of his underwear wet with come. He’s beautifully wrecked, and Ignis takes pity, moving forward to gather Noctis into his arms.

Suddenly, he’s pushed away.

“Laundry’s not done yet.” Noctis says, backing Ignis up against the dryer.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. If you enjoyed this or any of my fics, please leave a quick _< 3_  
>   
>  **Twitter** : [@starrynoctsky](https://twitter.com/starrynoctsky)


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